


Weep

by malchanceux



Category: Devour (2005)
Genre: Also Satan, Alternate Ending, Angst, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Dark, F/M, I need to use it more often, Parent/Child Incest, This movie was fucked up, and deserved a better ending, but hey, not that I'm doing it justice, that's a good tag right there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 16:20:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malchanceux/pseuds/malchanceux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief look inside Jake's mind, and an alternate ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weep

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old work actually, and I'm just moving it on over here. I wrote this when I was on my Jensen Ackles binge (that ended?) and DeVour is, by far, my favorite movie he's starred in. THE ENDING SHOULD HAVE BEEN DIFFERENT, RAWR.

It doesn’t make sense—any of it. It was a car accident that injured his mother, not falling down a steep drop-off. The Gray’s were his parents, not some She-Devil. He was fucked up in the head—fantasizing about murders and mutilations—but he wasn’t a Prince of Darkness. He was just…

Just Jake Gray.

One of the towns many screw ups, tied to his home by an alcoholic father and paralyzed mother. He was majoring in computer engineering, aiming for his Bachelor’s degree, and barely getting by on the shit income he had between himself and his father. He’d had a normal childhood despite the murderous daydreams. He learned to ride a bike without training wheels at seven, fell off and skinned his knees and elbows more times than he could count. He got picked on—he bullied. He got drunk the first time when he was thirteen; lost his virginity to Dakota the same day.

He did alright in most of his high school classes and excelled in Math. He’d only ever had three detentions, all of which could be linked back to dicking around with Conrad and Dakota.

He was a normal kid, a normal teenager, and up until Conrad signed him up for that stupid online game, he’d been an almost perfectly normal adult.

But now…

Now he wasn’t. He wouldn’t ever be able to be labeled as normal again.

Satan was after him, claiming him as her—his?—son. His two best friends had committed suicide within days of each other, taking people with them, and Jake had found his “parents” little secret in the basement.

And in the end, it  _did_  make sense to him. It was crystal clear.

He wasn’t their son.

His “mother” hadn’t been injured in a car accident.

He  _was_  the Prince of Darkness.

He was miserable with his apple pie life. He wanted to kill people—everyone that had ever fucked with him, and everyone he had ever befriended. It wasn’t normal to think that way, not what a  _human_ would want, but Jake wasn’t human, was he?

He’d never had humanity, not really.

His body and mind screamed at him to just pick up the chalice and drink every last drop of blood his adoptive parents had to offer, but a small voice in the back of his head cried out for him to do the right thing. Was telling him to stake the Devil in the heart, kill the bitch, and run like a bat out of Hell.

It’s what his "parents" would have wanted, it’s what his past self would have wanted, it’s what his Uncle would want, and what his friends—before the Pathway—would have wanted as well.

Jake stepped forward, picked up the chalice, and downed its contents in one go, blood dripping past his lips and down his chin, onto his shirt, and down his throat—wet, sloppy, and warm.

_Your enemy, Satan, prowls around like a lion…_

 Humanity had always been a lie—at least for him. His soul was a sham and “Jake Gray” a fairy-tale.

_Seeking souls he may devour._

He grabbed for Marisol—Anne—his mother, and pulled her soft curves close his body.

_When Jesus saw the people running to the sea, he rebuked the evil spirits…_

He smashed their lips together—hers soft and supple, his own wet and blood smeared—and chased the coppery tang of his step parents sliding on their tongues.

Let Jesus rescue tortured fools all he wanted.

The truth was, you couldn’t save those willingly damned.


End file.
